


Énouement

by ceruleanshark



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Flashbacks, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 03:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14323839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanshark/pseuds/ceruleanshark
Summary: Énouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.





	Énouement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [modsenga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/modsenga/gifts).



> Something I was challenged to write for a friend on Tumblr.

Some nights, lying awake in the darkness of his bedchambers in Angband, Mairon remembered. 

 

 He remembered the disappointment that would well in his throat whenever Aulë told him to be less ambitious. The feeling of heaviness and the throb of pain in his chest when Curumo looked at him with scorn, recoiling from him. That peculiar sensation when he realized how Eonwë really saw him; an experiment, a Maia who could be better, could be more like the others.

 

 He stared up at the canopy over his bed, the dark fabric melding with the shadows in the rest of the large room. Dim light, glow from the forges or mines, filtered through the arched windows. Mairon squeezed his eyes shut as the familiar ache in his chest intensified. 

 

 The scorn in the eyes of the others whenever he rambled on too long about a certain invention, or a new forging technique he was excited for. How false it had all felt. The time he had spent lingering in the shadows, knowing that if he approached the others he would be met with false sympathy or outright revulsion.

 

 He clutched at the blankets as he felt the sting of approaching tears, barely restrained. Mairon curled in on himself, pressing his face to the pillow beneath him. His red hair obscured his face in a thick cloud. 

 

 The loneliness had eaten at him. He had spent years wondering if he would ever be listened to, ever be cared for, ever be vulnerable without scorn or shame. In the end, he had convinced himself he would not. Those things were not for Maiar who were strange of thought, or turned away from the eyes of others, or who didn’t speak and hid away when the weight of the world became too much.

 

 An arm draped over Mairon’s waist, snapping him back to the present. He was drawn up to Melkor’s chest by the still-sleeping Vala, the top of his head fitting neatly beneath his chin. Mairon couldn’t help but smile as he felt his heartbeat sync with his husband’s, as it always did when they were near. The panicky feeling inside him faded into nothingness as Mairon was embraced tightly, cradled close and held like he was the most precious thing in Arda.

 

 Mairon wanted to go back and embrace his old self, then gently point him in the direction of the Vala who was his kindred spirit: Melkor. 

 

 He knew that Mairon would have been scared to approach him.  _ But Melkor is careless and unfeeling _ , he would say. That was how he had been taught, and Mairon could not blame his old self for believing that.

 

 He wanted to take his old self’s hand and whisper to him;  _ But is that not what they say of you?  _

 

  Then, perhaps, a look of understanding would dawn in the amber eyes. He would dare, then, to approach the Iron Vala, the breaker of the Music, the brother of Manwë, and to speak to him. To admit their similarities, to close the gap between them, and at last to find his home in Melkor’s arms. Mairon wanted to reassure himself that he would know affection, and love, and vulnerability in the embrace of another.

 

 Then, he had been scared and utterly alone in the world, uncertain in all he did. But now, he was safe and adored. His people loved him. His friends loved him. Melkor, especially, loved him. The bond that had once seemed forever beyond his reach was now settled comfortably in his mind, a marriage of souls between himself and the Vala whose story mirrored his own.

 

Now, perhaps, things could be alright.


End file.
